


overpower

by poor_sickies



Series: tumblr prompt fills [7]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Band Fic, Gen, Sickfic, band au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 01:37:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21171278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poor_sickies/pseuds/poor_sickies
Summary: The bnad needs hardcore vocals for this song... Shiro, high on painkillers,  manages, but not without some consequences.





	overpower

“Great! You just created a song no one can sing!

"In my defense,” Lance answers as he puts down the guitar, “it sounds awesome. And if either one of us ever learns the proper growling technique, this will sound badass. Imagine playing this live!”

Keith shakes his head with an amused expression.

“That’s… never gonna happen,” he says, “neither of us has a good voice for that.”

“Yeah, especially not you, Keith!” Hunk laughs from behind his drum kit. “Your voice is amazing, but way too soft and cute for this.”

Keith glares at him pointedly. Well, it was true. But if Keith’s voice is soft and fragile, Lance’s is too upbeat and poppy. And Shiro’s… it could maybe work, if his voice dropped down a couple octaves.

This particular song had been created after Lance’s trip back home, when his brother Marco had offered him a USB drive with sine cool music for him to check out. Among other softer things, were a few pop punk and melodic metal bands, and Lance had loved it.

So much in fact, that he had started writing a few songs in that same direction.

And it worked in theory, it did. He had the lyrics and melody down, and Keith and Shiro were able to make some awesome guitar riffs, along with an incredible solo for Keith. Pidge and Hunk complimented the whole thing with powerful bass lines and drums, and they had a whole new song, completely different from what they had written before.

But the vocals? They were impossible.

As much as they wouldn’t admit, their voices leaned a lot more towards pop and softer music. It was good for what they wanted, pop punk with the occasional ballad. This was a whole different backhand for them, and they knew it.

“Ah well,” Lance rolls his eyes, “what’s another rejected song… we can go back to it someday I guess.”

“When you three have decent voices for that,” Pidge comments.

*

“Okay, but are you positive you wanna do the show?”’ Allura insists, removing her hand from Shiro’s forehead. “Your fever isn’t very high, but it’s there… and you’re all sniffly…”

Shiro shakes his head quickly.

“I’ll be okay. I’ll just take something for the fever and do the show.”

Keith frowns, throwing a glance in his direction. When Shiro woke up this morning he was evidently sick, and everyone had told him it would be fine if he wanted to stay in and rest. They could manage with one less guitar for most songs, and Lance could cover for him with his acoustic one for the songs they needed two.

Yet, he insisted he was fine. Just half an hour ago he had taken painkillers for his headache and something for the fever before that, so it was time to take it again.

It’s a forty five minute set list, so they can probably get through it, sure. And they’ll have the next two days off, except Pidge who still has an exam next week, so Shiro will be able to rest afterwards.

Keith takes one more glance at Shiro, who’s already up and around, taking his meds.

He should be fine.

*

“So tonight,” Shiro says into the microphone, “we’re playing a new song!”

The audience cheers.

Lance immediately turns his head away from his mic to look at Keith.

“We are??” He mouths, utterly confused.

Keith just shrugs, equally lost.

Pidge and Hunk glance at each other, and back at Shiro.

They usually have a set list, and this kind of improv isn’t too common. It had happened before, but only to switch the order of what they usually did - never for a new song.

There’s a distinctly dopey look on a Shiro’s face, and Keith’s eyes widen in realization.

“And I’ll be singing, because my voice sounds great for this today,” Shiro continues.

Shiro may be a little high on painkillers.

“Ohhh,” Lance finally understands. He walks over to Shiro. “Hand me that guitar then. I’ll handle the rhythm.”

Shiro unstraps his guitar and happily gives it to Lance, while Keith stares in horror, understanding what’s about to happen. At least Lance is doing damage control. He quickly signals for a very confused Hunk and Pidge in the back.

“Feeling brave today, aren’t we, Shiro?” Lance teases. “Whenever you’re ready.”

*

When they get backstage, Shiro dumps his guitar (gently) on the sofa, and promptly lays down with his eyes closed.

“That was awesome!! Dude!” Lance exclaims, patting Shiro’s shoulder, who groans in protest. “I know your voice is fucked up now, but you gotta get better, and you’re gonna learn the growl! We need some hardcore music to play live!”

“Yeah, doing this one was pretty awesome,” Hunk laughs, as he picks up one of the towels to swipe it across his forehead, “I’m so sweaty but it was totally worth it.” He then turns to Shiro, with a small frown. “Are you okay, though?”

“Yeah,” Shiro raps out. “Just kinda tired.”

Lance winces at his voice. The way it sounds, he knows all too well how bad that’s gonna hurt in the morning.

“Geez, your voice sounds -”

“Horrible,” Keith interrupts him, coming back from the hallway with a glass of water. “What were you thinking?? You’re sick!”

Shiro lifts his head up to look at Keith, and no one can really he sure if the pained expression is just because of how bad he’s feeling, or just guilt.

Keith looks angry, but he knows he’s just worried. He accepts the glass of water and lays his head down again, closer to Keith’s thigh.

When they get to the car, Shiro simply leans against the windows and lets Keith wrap him in his jacket. He leans towards him, grateful.

Hunk glances at the backseat with a hesitant frown.

“So are we still going out for drinks, or-”

“No-” Keith answers immediately, “Shiro needs a real bed now. You guys go if you want, but we gotta head home.”

“Yeah that makes sense,” hunk mumbles, starting te car, “home it is,” he smiles.

*

“Ugh, are you serious, Shiro?? Why did you even perform tonight? You’re barely standing-”

Limping into their apartment, Keith guides Shiro to his bedroom, supporting most of his weight, as Shiro didn’t seem to be able to walk right in his own. He’s either too tired or too feverish, and the last thing he needs is to injure himself by falling face first onto the carpeted floor.

“I’m sorry, Keith,” Shiro rasps out.

“No need to be sorry,” Keith sighs, partly in relief, as he opens Shiro’s bedroom door and drags him to the bed, where he flops ungraciously. “Be right back. I’m gonna get your pajamas.”

On the way, he grabs an extra blanket from the living room, and puts some water boiling to make some tea.

When he gets back to the room, Shiro is laying in his side, eyes almost closed, hugging one of his pillows.

“How are you feeling? You think you can get some sleep?”

Shiro shrugs, hugging himself closer. It’s more than obvious he’s at least a little cold.

“Hey let’s dress your pajamas,” Keith decides, “you’re probably freezing in that shirt, come on.”

Shiro obliges, slow and clumsy, but within five minutes he’s much warmer. He could almost say he’s comfortable, if it wasn’t for the horrible headache and his throat feeling like sandpaper and hurting.

Keith leaves to get the tea, and Shiro curls up tighter under the blankets, and then reaches up with his hand to push his sweaty bangs back away from his forehead. Despite how much he’s shivering, he’s sweating all over and his cheeks feel warm.

He’s almost regretting going through with the show at all. Would he feel better now if he had stayed home and rested properly? He wasn’t feeling this bad before the show… but then again, he had taken strong meds, that he could only take again in four hours.

Keith comes back with the tea in less than five minutes. Kicking the door open, he walks closer to the bed and sits down slowly, leaning with his back against the head board. “I can stay if you want.”

Shiro shakes his head. “Just need to sleep this off. I’ll be better tomorrow.”

Keith doesn’t look entirely convinced, but eventually agrees. He picks up Shiro’s phone from his jean pocket and places it on the bedside table.

“If you need anything just ring me, yeah? And try not to talk, your voice is completely wrecked.”

“It’s not that bad,” Shiro grumbles, rolling to his side and pulling the blanket over him, “my voice will be better tomorrow.”

It’s not.

Shiro wakes up in pain, swallowing takes a lot of effort and talking is impossible.

Actually impossible.

Because when he tries, the only thing that comes out is a raspy weak sound.

He’s feverish again, feeling the heated skin of his cheek against the pillow and the familiar ache near the stump of his arm.

It’s still a little dark outside, rain pouring like yesterday, but Keith is already up, telling from the quiet steps he can hear coming from the kitchen.

He lets himself go back to sleep for a little, until Keith knocks on the door gently, before going in.

“Hey,” he greets, holding a tray with a mug of tea and toast, and closing the door with his foot. “You need to take your meds. Your fever will probably be back soon.”

Keith places the tray on the nightstand, and Shiro lets him check his forehead with the back of his hand.

He hisses quietly, muttering under his breath. “Too late,” he sighs.

Shiro gets himself into a sitting position gingerly and picks up a pillow to put behind his back, as Keith takes a seat as well in the edge of the mattress.

“How do you feel?”

Shiro only shrugs in response, but even he can tell it’s probably not a convincing shrug, and Keith sighs again.

“I told you you were gonna regret it, but I guess you were too feverish to really listen,” Keith says, as he hands the warm mug to Shiro.

Shiro only lets out a weak noise with the back of his throat and accepts the tea, both of his hands hugging around the mug to warm up.

“It was kinda cool though,” Keith admits as he sits down next to Shiro, pulling the blanket over his legs too, “I mean, definitely don’t do it again when you’re sick, and if you’re gonna do it, please learn the proper growling technique, but yeah.”

Shiro smiles tiredly, and leans back. Keith’s tea always tastes nice, but right now he’s not really sure he wants to put his throat through more torture. Swallowing hurts, a lot, to the point that even talking is exhausting, and he’s not even hungry.

“You have to put something in your stomach with those meds, Shiro,” Keith insists gently, shoving the tray a little closer to him, “just small sips, and then eat some of the toast.”

Shiro coughs slowly, trying not to jostle his throat more than necessary.

“Glad today is a day off,” he manages to say, leaning backwards with a tired smile and his eyes closed, before finally taking a sip from the tea.

“Definitely,” Keith chuckles, “but next time please just take it easy, will you?”


End file.
